Crocea Mors
by SpookyNooodle
Summary: Jaune had always felt self conscious about his weapon. Everyone else had mech-shift technology, and dust, and magic, and god-knows-what-else. But as it turns out...his weapon has a few tricks of her own. Wait...her?


Jaune sat in his dorm, holding his weapon in his hands. Crocea Mors. It was a weird name, but not by much, at least by huntsman standards. Their weapons all had funny names, except for those that had been made recently, like Ruby's Crescent Rose.

He turned the sword over, and pried it from its sheathe. His sword was so…weird. It was a warrior's weapon, but it never seemed like a _huntsman's_ weapon, at least to him. Most weapons had some form of mecha-shifting, to make them deadlier, or just to adapt to a situation. Yang's gauntlets-Ember Celica, if he remembered right-only really changed for cosmetic reasons, to get them out of the way when she wanted to hold something without it exploding. Goodwitch just used a riding crop, and he had no idea how that was supposed to be a weapon. But who really knew with her? She had magic powers, or something.

But his? Crocea Mors. His was a weapon of contradictions. Old and new, outdated and cutting edge. He snorted. He'd have to tell Yang that some time. It wasn't flashing or multi-purposed like the others'. The only flash of technology from the last hundred years was the sheathe, which had been made after the original was lost. And all that did was collapse to save space.

He held the grip, and the crunch of contracting leather felt satisfying. It was worn, yet astoundingly well maintained. It didn't shine like when Ruby's scythe was fresh from the school forged after a tune-up. Despite its incredible condition, he didn't think he'd ever seen his father cleaning the sword, and he certainly hadn't. Even if he assumed that his grandfather had been meticulous in maintaining it, that didn't explain how it still looked so good after three decades of heavy use.

Wait...now that Jaune thought about it, it hadn't been used that much for the last 15 years or so. His father picked it up from the mantle less and less, before he eventually set it in its case, what? Two years ago?

He scowled and turn it over again, the Arc insignia glaring up at him, reminding him of what a failure he was. _'You stole me. You were a failure to your family, and the one time you decided to get off your ass and do something, you steal their legacy from them.'_

"Jaune?" Pyrrha stood in the doorway, Miló and Aküó slung over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

He laughed and shook his head, as if his messy hair could sweep away his thoughts. "Yeah! Just, uh…got distracted."

* * *

The evening air felt cool on Jaune's skin. The sprinklers were working down below, watering Beacon's massive lawn. He couldn't imagine the water bill.

Jaune's thoughts were smacked from his head by the pommel of Miló, and he fell to the ground, his tail bone paying the price…again. Pyrrha smirked at him, with that expression that she so often reserved for him, for when they could be in private together.

She leaned down and held out a hand. "How's the view from down there, daydreamer?" She didn't know, but when she leaned down like that, Jaune caught an eyeful of her…uh, he really shouldn't be thinking this way about his partner but, well…her cleavage. He'd learned to ignore it instead; Pyrrha deserved better than to be stared at by some creep.

He stood, and let go of her hand, careful not to hang on for too long. _'Don't be creepy…'_ It was a constant mantra he was repeating to himself. Pyrrha was…well, gorgeous. But he couldn't afford to screw up their relationship like that.

His hair flew as he shook his head. He had this conversation with himself _every night_. But not tonight though. Tonight, he would _focus_. Sword in his hand, shield on his arm, scroll stuck to the inside of the shield, and synced to his aura.

"Jaune, actually, why don't we try two-handed work tonight? Try out the new…Have you decided on a name for it, yet?"

"Uh…is sword-sword okay?"

"Um…why don't we work on a new name at a later date?" Pyrrha's enthusiasm for changing his genius name was slightly suspicious.

"What, do you not li-?"

"So! Two-handed! Yes!" Jaune shrugged, re-sheathed his sword, and then pulled Crocea Mors in its entirety from his belt. It was heavy, and even after he flicked the hidden catch that extended the extra blades from the sheathe, it was still basically a heavy club with sharp sides.

' _Mmmm~…I love the feel of your hands on me~…so soft. I bet you use moisturizer, you attentive boy~…'_

Jaune looked around. That was… Uh… that was _not_ Pyrrha. Or anyone else he recognized.

' _Why did you pause? Is this really the first time you've held me in both hands? Do you just_ love _the way I fill your palms? Give me another year or two boy, and you won't be able to keep your hands off me~…'_

…

 _What._

' _I know I feel good, but I don't feel_ that _good. Oh brothers Grimm, can he hear me? Jaune, can you hear me?'_

"Uh…yes?"

"Jaune?"

' _Brothers, I'd hoped to put this off. At least until we could get away from your clingy partner. But I suppose, if you're already hearing me, now's as good a time as any.'_

A flash of light illuminated the dimly lit rooftop, and Jaune's sword grew and became…soft?

As the light cleared, and Jaune blinked away the spots in his vision, he opened his eyes to reveal…a tall woman with golden hair, just a little darker than his own. She was tanned, had blue eyes the color of a mountain lake, and she was…completely naked. He only noticed this after looking at his own hand, which was clasped around one of her-

Jaune fell on his ass for the second time in as many minutes. The taller woman laughed as Pyrrha dashed around her, scooping up Jaune and covering his eyes.

"Who are you?!"

"Oh, don't be shy~…"

"I asked a question!"

Her smile fell (not that Jaune could see), and she cocked one hip, pursing a pair of full lips, and gesturing to Pyrrha. "See, this is _exactly_ why I wanted to wait to tell you about all of this. Your father's partner was just as infatuated, and it certainly didn't help when he got married."

Pyrrha was steaming, though Jaune couldn't really tell why, but before she could shout at the strange woman- " _I_ …am Crocea Mors…"

* * *

 **A/N:** _ **There**_ **we go. An updated chapter one, with a little more introduction, and after fixing a few things.**

' _ **But Spooks! How does Jaune have the sword-sword if Pyrrha's still alive?!'**_

 **Well, I'm glad you asked that nameless viewer, and I'll tell you. As far as I can tell, Pyrrha's circlet and neck-thing (I wanted to call it a neck brace, but those are for when you're in a car accident and get whiplash) were melted down inn Volume Four mostly for decoration and sentimental reasons. The whole sword isn't made from the stuff, and there honestly just isn't enough metal, so my reasoning was this:**

 **The sword-sword was an adjustment of Ruby's, added to the sheathe (which for my purposes, is actually separate from the sword) using just normal metal, with Pyrrha's armor used as a highlight. This is set in their second year of Beacon, as if the fall had never happened. With that time, Ruby had the opportunity to make suggestions and adjustments to her friend's weapon, and there you go: pre-Pyrrha-mortis sword-sword.**

 **The cover art belongs to Exvnir, when we came up for ideas for this story on the discord server. He did a sketch, and I rushed out a first chapter, then here we are. I actually told him my ideas for where I wanted this to go, and he went "Spooks, you're making it serious. All our ideas were comedy. Why did you make it serious?" There'll be comedy, I promise! Eh…I might need to bring in Lefou though…comedy is not my strong point.**

 **With the mixed reaction, I think I might not continue this unless there's interest for it, and instead focus on Counseling, RitCoP, and the like.**


End file.
